I wonder how cold the water would be if I accidentally pushed her overboard…
Her gold scarf whips around her face in the wind as I watch her lean against the rail and peer down into the blackness of the water. She seems completely hypnotized by the cresting white foam that trails alongside the ship as it barrels its way to the next port.
How much would it hurt when she hits the water?
Would death be instant?
Would her screams go unheard?
These aren’t supposed to be the thoughts of a formerly happy husband on a Christmas anniversary vacation.
But they are.
I’m tired of her hollow commitments and the talk of “The Baby” to mask the lies she’s been spinning. I’m tired of working to exist and existing to work because she’s taken away everything worthwhile in my life. Most of all, I’m tired of pretending that I can make things work and accept a baby that I know is not mine.
A man can only take so much of an evil woman but I still hate myself for having such gruesome thoughts.
There are only four days before we go home. Four more days before I tell her that this charade is over.
She turns to me with a blank expression as if she’s been reading my thoughts. Suddenly, four days feels like an eternity and I can’t hold myself back.
“I can’t do this anymore. We’re done,” I blurt out. “I can’t stand the sight of you.”
She says nothing but a smile spreads across her lips.
“Then I’ll make things easier for you,” she whispers.
She turns her back on me, takes a deep breath, throws a leg over the rail and vanishes into the dark.
I don’t move. I can’t move.
All I remember is the ocean air taking hold of her gold scarf and gently placing it at my feet.